Promise Me, Please
by faraways
Summary: Both of them remember promises they could not keep.


**author; **brazensers  
**characters; **Wormtail, Marlene, and Sirius. Mentioned James I and Remus.  
**pairings; **Wormtail/Marlene. Mentioned James/Lily and Sirius/Marlene.  
**wordcount; **1,000  
**disclaimer; **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of the author of the work from which this is derived.

**notes; **For the Writing World Cup 2013 at HPFC.

* * *

**Promise Me, Please**

* * *

**001.**

"I banged a girl last night."

Those are the first words from Sirius Black as descends from the rickety stairs of the newly wedded Potters' household. He plops down into a white wooden kitchen chair and grabs a muffin from a basket in the center of the dining table, looking as energetic as a hummingbird.

The Marauders stay silent around him—except for James Potter, who chokes on his own breakfast as he sputters to speak. Eventually, the hacking stops, and the green-eyed man grins.

"Well done, mate," he congratulates his friend.

Remus Lupin only scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a chug of milk, while Peter Pettigrew sits wide-eyed and impressed in the corner, not daring to make a sound.

Sirius chuckles, puffing out his chest over enthusiastically. "Yup." After chomping on his muffin with his mouth open, making monstrous noises for a bit, he adds, "Did _Mrs. Potter_ make these? They're delicious, if I do say so myself. Never eaten anything better."

"Yes, _Lily_ did," James replies with a smirk, as if he knew that all of their biggest desires were to have a wife whose cooking skills matched those of Lily Evans. "You ought to tell her when she wakes up—she'll be happy to make you some to take home."

A tiny, muffled cough comes from the corner, and all the men's heads turn toward the barely intelligible sound. Peter, who has decided to finally speak up, prompts, "So, who was she, Sirius?"

The black-haired man merely shrugs. "Who damn cares?"

Laughter erupts from the four men.

**002.**

Peter Pettigrew calmly hands a ceramic cup, full to the brim with hazelnut coffee, into the velvety grasp of Marlene McKinnon. The seemingly kind act does not swoon the woman, a scowl still etched upon her face, her dark eyes chilling to the bone.

"How long are you going to keep it up?"

The skinny man's eyebrows scrunch together in nervous confusion. "Keep, err, _what_ up exactly?" He settles down across from her in his favorite plush chair, looking uncomfortable.

Marlene exhales frustrated. "All _this_." She waves her hand in a flustered manner to her surroundings, never one for clever banter or thoughtful wording.

"Uh… dear, I still don't quite know what you mean… err… exactly." Peter's cheeks begin to redden, and his handsome eyes dart across the fabulously decorated room—the room that the once-happy couple spent the entirety of a month furnishing when they first moved in together.

The beautiful woman lets out a disbelieving snort and slams her drink onto the coffee table, sending dark liquid leaping out of the cup. "You've been so silent around me," Marlene spits, rage churning in her gaze. "You never spend time with me anymore, and our Gringotts vault is completely empty! There's so much distance between us, even when we're standing two feet apart!"

Peter stares at the brown stain forming on his carpet for a moment before replying, "Marlene, you're mad. I don't—"

"_Mad_?" Marlene looks at her partner, stricken and wide-eyed.

He quickly attempts to fix his mistake—to layer it with smothering compliments and apologies—standing up automatically, which sends his own cup crashing to the floor. "No! Dear, I only—"

"_You're_ mad," comes the cold interruption, leaving Peter Pettigrew speechless. "Mad for seeing another girl behind my back. As if you thought I was a fucking idiot."

A small squeak comes from the man. "Untrue—"

"You little _rat_!" Marlene screeches, eyes livid and veins about to burst from her forehead, her fists clenched at her side in a spasm of anger. "No wonder they call you Wormtail, you're a fucking rat—a rat that worms your way through everything!"

"Listen to—"

"Shut _up_!" Both are standing now, teeth bared and heads burning and bulging like red balloons.

He narrows his gaze. "Like you can—"

With a quick twitch of intricately carved elm, Peter is silent once more, though he continues to mouth a few unfriendly phrases before realizing he is not being heard.

Marlene smirks, an expression that makes the little man frown, for it looks so simply _wrong_ on her chubby, elvish face. "Remember all magic comes with a price, Pete. You'll be happy to know I found my _own_ replacement. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't told you yet, considering how close the two of you are." The woman pauses, her face stony. "And you know what? I'm done. I'm just going to walk away from it all, because it's too much."

Peter Pettigrew's face crumples in pain, but Marlene McKinnon just scoffs, picks up her black leather coat, and departs without another word.

Wormtail makes no move to stop her.

**003.**

"I'm glad we met again." A woman with glorious dark eyes smiles at her dinner partner, eager to start over with someone she can trust—someone _true_. She fixes her tight, form-fitting skirt before raising her wine glass. "A toast?"

"Of course! To the new meaning of forever—us!" the man promises his new date, a shining Marlene McKinnon, and clinks his drink against hers with a pompous air.

Dogs kill beauties, Sirius Black knows, but he makes this lust-driven promise anyway, as fake as all of his promises may turn out to be.

And things have never been better.

**004.**

"Wonderful to see you once more." A taunting voice, high-pitched and dripping with sarcasm greets the scrawny man who enters Malfoy Manor. "I see your, ah, love interest has mistaken the reason for your… absences."

"It is no matter, my lord," the man promises, though inside he wants to scream and kick and die and tear the snake apart—for leaving him penniless, for messing with his every thought, for ruining the love inside his heart.

But snakes eat rats, Peter Pettigrew knows, and so he makes this fright-driven promise instead, as fake as all of his promises may turn out to be.

And things have never been worse.

**005.**

On a dark day in July, of 1981, a woman and her family are burned alive, screaming and writhing in agony as the skin melts from their bones.

Two men also die that day, though their deaths are inside—from screaming and writhing hearts.

Both of them remember promises they could not keep.


End file.
